There was a time when all the world firsts in rail took place in the UK – the first modern locomotive, the first intercity line and the first train-travelling monarch. That time, however, was the second quarter of the 19th century, and for very many years now Britain's railways have, as it were, been stuck on the slow train. No principally domestic mainline has been built in over a century, and the spread of high-speed services – from Japan in the 1960s through France in the 80s to Spain in the 90s – has all but failed to reach these shores. The transport secretary, Andrew Adonis, today tells the Guardian of his lofty ambitions for bridging the rail gap.

It is telling that Britain's one new line, and its sole high-speed service, connects St Pancras and the Channel Tunnel. That project invited cross-channel comparisons, and the shaming contrast with the French convinced Whitehall that muddling through over creaking old tracks was no longer a viable option. At all other times the government, and perhaps the public, have grown used to thinking of high-speed rail in the same way as figurative art or winning Wimbledon – a wonderful thing that the British are not cut out for. That makes Lord Adonis's talk of replacing all domestic flights – and some European ones – with high-speed rail an apparently bold break with the past.

The past lack of ambition reflected many things – the quarter-century of falling public capital investment that followed the 1976 IMF cuts; a botched privatisation and the 2000 Hatfield crash, both of which led to problems that drained money and energy when the public expenditure taps were switched back on; above all, a crippling sense of self-doubt about the British ability to pull off a grand projet. The completion of the Channel Tunnel link – which was built on time and on budget – make this the time to exorcise the demons of doubt.

Spain had no high-speed rail at all as recently as 1992, but now has some 2,000km, and is set to build far more. The conventional assumption has been that rail will decline. This reflected the post-war reality of a growing proportion of journeys being made by road and by air. But it obscured the potential for rail in the deeper connection between the slow rising tide of prosperity and the total volume of travel. People have grown richer over the decades by travelling further to seek out opportunities, and in addition they have also spent a portion of the resulting extra affluence on going further for leisure. Thus, despite all the setbacks, total rail traffic is up by a third since privatisation. Meanwhile Eurostar – and other high-speed lines on the continent – have now more than proved that they can compete with aviation. The lesson is plain: build it – and they will come.

Climate change reinforces the argument, as the carbon emissions from a train journey are only a fraction of those from boarding a plane or driving. Another consideration is re-energising the regions. That task that has attracted more failed policies than just about any other, but a high-speed link between – say – Manchester and Leeds would be almost bound to help integrate business in these two cities. It is not just a question of speed, but also of reliability and, equally importantly, capacity: business travellers will be much more inclined to take the train if they are certain they can get a seat.

First the Liberal Democrats and later the Conservatives committed themselves to a rail renaissance before Lord Adonis finally nailed Labour's colours to the mast, and he is taking shrewd account of this. He has tasked engineers with drafting a ready-to-go manual for building the line Britain needs, hoping to win all-party agreement on a definitive blueprint ahead of the election. The government urgently needs to give some thought to the country it is likely to be leaving behind in less than a year's time. High-speed rail has been a slow train coming for Britain. If Lord Adonis can now give it momentum, it could be a proud part of the legacy.